


3AM in the morning

by phantomOftheLibrary



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Trans Character, Trans wash, literally this is shameless so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomOftheLibrary/pseuds/phantomOftheLibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's three in the morning, or whatever counts as the equivalent of three in the morning on this God-forsaken planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3AM in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the start of s13. Wrote this a while ago to go along w a thing i drew for a friend and i kinda liked it! come talk to me on tumblr if you are also a fan of blonde trans former freelancers who need a 16 hr nap my url is transwashingtons

It's three in the morning. Or whatever counts as the equivalent of three in the morning on this God-forsaken planet. The hour is too horrific to be doing anything, really, Washington thinks. Definitely way too early to be sitting on Tucker's face, but well, here he is. 

Not that he's complaining. It's just, he's gotten off twice already and while Tucker's tongue feels, God, fucking amazing, they're climbing into 'too much of a good thing' territory. His hands are gripping Tucker's hair, tugging, trying to pull him away so he can climb down and go take a thirty minute shower to clean off his sticky thighs and soiled pride. But apparently Tucker is having none of that, because he anchors his arm around Wash's leg and grabs onto his shirt, holding him in place. His mouth latches around Wash's clit and he flicks his tongue in a way that should be fucking illegal. 

"Haah- Fuck, mm, just let me-" Wash chokes, twisting his torso in any manner possible to get away. It's way too much, he's way too sensitive, but Tucker hums a negative anyways and Wash has to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting. Tucker sucks and licks like he was fucking born to do it and as far as Wash is concerned at the moment, he was. His skin sets on fire with every pattern the tip of Tucker's tongue traces over him, feels like he's melting when it's buried as deep as it can go inside him. There's all sorts of humiliating noises bubbling up in his throat begging to be released but he won't. Both can't give Tucker that satisfaction and doesn't want to alert anyone sleeping in the nearby rooms. 

His cheeks feel wet, and when he opens his eyes his vision is blurry with tears. God, he must look fucking ridiculous. Hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, arms shaking, lips swollen and pink from biting them. His face is bright red and his pussy is fucking throbbing and the only thing that’s keeping him from going crazy is Tucker’s tongue running slow and flat up the length of it over and over again.

“Mmmh, Tucker, please-" Wash groans shakily, blinking the tears out of his eyes long enough to look down and see Tucker giving him this desperate, half-lidded stare with those bright bright brown eyes of his. The next breath catches in his throat and Tucker's tongue catches on his clit, and he thinks his heart might have skipped a couple beats. He loses track of himself, loses his figurative grip on everything the second his third orgasm of the night comes crashing over him in unexpected waves. He does this pitiful full-body shudder, and practically fucking wails into his palm. His thighs are trembling against Tucker's ears and he's pretty sure if he wasn't helping to hold him up, Wash would have fallen on his ass by now. Tucker takes that as a compliment.

"You're trying to kill me aren't you," Wash moans weakly after the tremors have subsided. The atmosphere of the bunk is heavy and warm and he feels safe despite everything he knows is going on around them. "Let me off." 

"Alright, alright." Tucker kisses the crease where Wash's pubic bone meets his leg and eases him down to sit on his stomach. "So? Who's the fuckin' best, am I right?" 

"I'd sock you if I could feel my arms." Wash growls with all the ferocity of a kitten. He tries to squeeze his thighs shut because he's still way too wet and dripping a little, but that proves difficult when the friction makes him hiss and drop his legs apart. If he wasn't actually mad before, he kind of is now because wow that's inconvenient and it's going to be uncomfortable in his armor tomorrow. "See what you've done?" 

"Sorry," Tucker grins in a way that lets Wash know he's not really sorry at all, and sits up to dive in for a kiss. Wash gives in, if only because he thinks it kinda hot to taste himself on Tucker's tongue. He's tired though, it's three in the morning and they need to be up in a few hours to train soldiers and draw up battle plans and do a hundred other things that seem way less fun than kissing and sleeping in. 

It's three in the morning and Wash really should clean himself up but instead he just wraps an arm around Tucker's waist, presses his chest against his back and kisses the area between his shoulder and his neck. He's pissed that he still can't close his legs entirely without aching in the strangest way but Tucker's breathing evening out seems way more important, so Wash focuses on that, and lets the rhythm lull him to sleep.


End file.
